Johnny ducked his head, shuffling sideways as he followed Mary down the narrow aisle. They were boarding the plane in Prince George that would take them to their connecting flight, which would fly straight through to Mexico.
He chuckled as he heard Isaac in the aisle behind him, accusing Terry of “grabbing my butt” and telling her to “keep your hands off,” and her embarrassed laughter as she denied all contact, hands full with her carry-on bag and purse. Isaac shifted the blame to an older lady who enjoyed the attention and actually followed through with the action Isaac was protesting, to the delight of several other passengers.
The atmosphere in the front half of the small plane was almost riotous by the time they were seated, and the elderly woman was the star of the show. The flight attendants turned a blind eye when she shared a small flask with Isaac, seated directly behind her, and the flight she had been dreading became a highlight of her winter.
Mary had done her best to get seats with enough room for her husband, a rush of gratification when he noticed and thanked her warming her face. She knew he would be asleep long before they reached the Rockies and had brought a book she planned to start on their flight and finish while she tanned on the beach.
They had been extremely busy for the last several weeks. The end of the season had come in several stages, none as convenient as the loggers hoped for each year. The mechanics had been busy with repairs and retrofits. Isaac and Chet preferred to wait until something was broken, while Pete, Jason and Johnny preferred to replace worn parts before it was necessary.
Chet had gotten it into his mind that they might go back to work early, and he and Johnny’s stress while working with several manufactures on new equipment purchases concerned Mary. She knew Johnny realized he was somewhat idealistic, but he also wanted to do a good job during his first breakup season as foreman.
She could hear excited voices and good-natured teasing from several rows ahead. Isaac had something going with a white-haired lady, and the flight attendants were joining in. She stretched her legs as the plane taxied on the wet runway, smiling when she thought of her conversation with her dad the night before. He had teased her for her excitement, like he had when she was a little girl anticipating her birthday party. He also prayed with her before their call ended, something he had never done before, and after some thought, she decided that she liked it.
Johnny was already snoring softly in the window seat as the plane departed the northern capital, signature plumes of steam from the pulp mills rising in parallel, slanted salutes to the hopes, dreams, and sorrows of the individuals sharing the sturdy capsule climbing into the cold, gray sky.
Mary’s novel slipped to the seat beside her before the drink cart came by, and the flight attendant smiled wistfully as she tucked a small blanket around the shoulders of the striking young woman, face relaxed in sleep. The attendant noticed she was holding the large hand of the sleeping man next to her and envied the aura around the couple. Someday, she thought, someday.
A larger aircraft was already at altitude, swiftly closing the distance between Toronto and its destination. The first-class section was dim, its westbound occupants on track to reach their destination within the four hours promised earlier that day. In a first-class window seat, a passenger lounged, face obscured by the hood of his immaculate track suit. A soccer match was ending on his small screen.
Johnny woke in time to see the Rocky Mountains, marveling at the huge expanse of rock and snow, the incredible cloud formations. Mary was leaning on his shoulder, a flimsy blanket tucked around her. The thrum of the engines was a sound Johnny enjoyed, the flexing of the wing outside his window pleasing to his machine-oriented eye.
Lift, gravity, thrust, and drag. His uncles had been fascinated with the principles of flight, and together the three Amunds had built several gas-powered remote-controlled airplanes. The construction had gone well on both occasions, the first as an exhibit for a science fair when Johnny was in elementary school, the second a few years later because they had enjoyed building the first.
Flying the airplanes had been a different story. Each plane had suffered a swift demise, the science project, piloted by Uncle Lars, bursting into spectacular flames on the roof of the tool shed. The second project had barely flown, smashing squarely into a tractor, young Johnny unable to handle the unfamiliar controls
The attendant came by, and seeing Johnny awake, asked if he would like something to drink. She brought him a cup of coffee as requested and seeing the humor in his eyes when he took the small cup that looked miniature in his grasp, she returned quickly with a larger paper cup of airline brew. He thanked her for the coffee and for bringing Mary a blanket.
As they approached Calgary, Johnny thought back to the previous weeks. After the push to bring the logging equipment home, there had been some real problems to deal with. The heavy rain, following a winter of exceptionally high snowfall, had caused flooding unprecedented in the valley’s recent history. The un-melted snow collected water and sponge-like, doubled and tripled in weight. Many buildings had been damaged severely, including the grocery store where Mary worked. Local building contractors worked together, combining their crews and resources, with an army of volunteers. The story of this community effort had been nationwide news, but more importantly, had saved many buildings and their contents from serious damage.
Students worked beside members of the town council to fill sandbags and pump water from basements. Churches set up stations for food and shelter. Coffee was free at Charlie’s, for anyone who was helping, needed help, traveling through, or reporting. The complicated message on Charlie’s sign on the highway once again brought a needed shot of compassionate humor to the community, and gallons of liquefied caffeine were dispensed freely.
Chet was seldom seen in town, spending his time, and a considerable amount of money, helping those he called “my favorites,” the elderly people who lived out of town. Once again, Chet and Melissa were taking care of business. He had brazenly hauled his thirty-ton excavator through town despite the weight restrictions in place on the roads.
They had been pulled over by an angry commercial vehicle safety officer, who demanded Chet park his truck immediately and wrote up an excessive, if deserved, fine. Melissa had stormed down from her side of the cab, and through tears of anger and despair, explained the situation to which they were going. The ice-covered Nechako River had risen quickly, and large ice jams had scoured the trees, fences, and anything else off the lower deltas in the valley. At a farm down the river, a herd of cows had been trapped on the far side of a now-raging stream. The rancher had been unable to move hay across the water, and the cattle were starving. Worse yet, they were calving, and over twenty newborn calves had already died, either by drowning, trampling, or by wolves and grizzly bears preying on the herd.
Chet hoped to divert the floodwater from the trapped herd, and at least get some hay to the hungry animals. To the credit of the harried officer, he escorted Chet to the farm, and later when his shift was over, came out to the farm where he and his two teenage daughters spent six miserable hours helping Chet and the hastily assembled crew.
Johnny was glad the ordeal was over but knew that many good things had taken place because of the crisis. He settled against the side of the plane and thought about Mexico with Mary.
At thirty-thousand feet, Joseph was on his way out of Canada and was pleased to have encountered no difficulties. He would be landing in Calgary, waiting several hours, then planned to buy a ticket for the next stage of his trip. If anyone happened to see his name on the manifest, he reasoned, they would think he was staying in Canada, coming back to Calgary. In his mind, departing from Toronto or Vancouver to points south would cause more alarm than a simple flight within the country. Plus, there had been no interest showed in him at all. This was disconcerting, as his self-imposed exile may have been unnecessary.
A basketball game was now playing on the small screen and he ignored it, looking forward to warm weather. He smiled. Being smarter than the other guy had served him well, had always resulted in successful ventures. Who knows what sort of leverage he could build to get back into the scheme without being the grunt, the one who took the risks? He dozed, almost relaxing.